Bhutan, a remote Vajrayana Buddhist kingdom perched in the rarified air of the eastern Himalayas, is regularly ranked among the happiest countries in the world. With a population of fewer than 800,000 people, it is also one of the world’s smallest and least industrialized countries, yet it has significant experience in maintaining the delicate balance of managing economic growth in a sustainable manner, famously encapsulated in its conservative “Gross National Happiness” (GNH) approach to economic development.

Within the last few decades, mindfulness has become a trend that is sweeping the world. Today, people from different walks of life and various institutions are embracing the practice—mainly due to the fact that its undeniable benefits have been proven by modern science. Those who practice mindfulness have found that it can help them to achieve mental wellbeing, which includes reducing stress and finding inner peace. You would think that everyone would praise its popularity, but this is not the case. There are those who criticize the global popularity of mindfulness for various reasons: it is not the true Dharma that has the potential to bring about things like satori (awakening), or it’s a watered down version of the Dharma that is lacking in ethical principles. At the same time, there are also respected Buddhist teachers who feel that even some popularized versions of mindfulness have the power to bring us to a higher state of consciousness. Believe it or not, some might criticize it because they themselves don’t know so much about meditation. 

One consistent challenge for me as a monastic of the Chinese tradition has been to adjust my eating habits. I am not a gourmand, but like many I do make conscious choices about what I eat and drink. For example, I like noodles and bread more than rice, and I prefer red beans to mung beans, and I don’t eat bananas. In a Chinese monastery, mealtimes are formally framed as receiving food offerings. This gives us a very limited range of choices to pick and choose what we really want. Talking and eye contact is not allowed during mealtimes; we mindfully eat what we are given and have permission to return food only if it’s too much, although we can ask for more if we don’t have enough. On top of that, we only have milk powder, brown sugar, and saltine crackers for snacks.

I have always been fascinated by the radical message of Tiantai (see below), its versatility in Chinese thought, and its potential for intellectual cross-pollination with non-Buddhist philosophy. Tiantai is the subject of my doctoral studies and in one of my previous articles I introduced the sixth (or ninth, depending on how you calculate it) patriarch of Tiantai Buddhism, Miaole Zhanran. In this article, I will give a proper introduction of Tiantai Buddhism and an explanation of just why I find it so intriguing.

In the year of 1602, a father in China completed a text for his 16-year-old son. The father, Yuan Liaofan (袁了凡) (1533–1606), was a successful man. At a time when civil service examinations were the main means for commoners to be elevated to social elites, Yuan was one of the few who obtained jingshi, the highest degree in the examinations, among the candidates from all over the country, and at the end of his career he had risen to a position at the Ministry of War of the Ming court (1368–1644). However, his writings to his son were not about career advancement, marital happiness, or wealth procurement. Rather, they are about an ultimate question he had been pondering; whether one can create their own destiny.

India is the motherland of Buddhism and a great source of knowledge and wisdom. In August, I had the honor of teaching a series of lectures on Buddhism in India. I was invited by the Centre for Indology at the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan—an internationally reputed institution dedicated to the promotion of education and culture, founded in 1938 by the Indian politician, writer, and educationist Dr. Kanhaiyalal Maniklal Munshi (1887–1971). My lecture series on Buddhism in Tibet, Mongolia, Russia, and Bulgaria was organized by the dean of the Center of Indology, Prof. Dr. Shashi Bala, with the support of the director of Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan,  Ashok Pradhan.

The Five Mental Hindrances are:1. Sensual desire2. Ill will3. Sloth and torpor4. Restlessness and remorse5. Skeptical doubt

In our monastery, there is a practice for those who are really upset with someone else. They’re told to give the other person a gift. It’s usually the last thing that anyone in this situation wants to do, yet it can bring about great transformation. I haven’t had to do this—I don't know if it’s that I’m able to keep good relationships for the most part, or if I’m simply conflict-avoidant—but there are plenty of times that I’ve felt irritation, anger, or ill will mount up in great piles until I feel lost in it. The version of gift giving that I've taken on in these circumstances is to offer the gift of loving-kindness, called metta in the earliest recorded discourses of the Buddha. It may take me a while, but once I notice that I’m stuck in ill will I make a point, during either our sitting or walking meditation periods, to send that person the energy of loving-kindness.

While many people have expressed concerns about fighting addiction with medication and counseling, Noah Levine, “a tattooed, gold-toothed, punk-loving Buddhist from Santa Cruz” and counterculture Buddhist teacher, has introduced an alternative approach to combating addiction that draws on the Buddhist practices of mindfulness and meditation. His approach, called Refuge Recovery, is gaining ground in the United States (and in other countries), with centers across the nation, albeit in a strictly non-theistic form. (Valley News)

It’s often interesting to watch one’s own ego in action. I recently had a discussion with a couple of friends on life’s purpose and the value we place on the things we hope to accomplish.